Narcissus in Tatters
by Shissuru Urufu
Summary: Set during the Arrancar Arc. The fight with Luppi ends very differently, leaving Yumichika broken in its wake. Destroyed both physically and mentally, can his friends help him piece his life back together or will the Arrancar's triumph finish him?
1. Destruction

Ok, this is going to be multi chapter, though you may not believe me once you reach the end. I haven't got any pairings planned so requests are welcome. It won't guarrantee me writing that pairing, but I will seriously consider it, unless it's something I really don't agree with e.g. Zaraki/ Yumichika.

I'm also looking for a beta if anyone's interested. This is currently unbetaed, so if I've made any horrific errors you'll have to notify me as I obviously haven't spotted it.

Disclaimer: If Bleach was mine, Yumichika would be in it a hell of a lot more. As he isn't, we can therefore assume that I don't own it. All profit to Tite Kubo, not me.

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"Ikkaku! Matsumoto!"

It was instinct to shout. They wouldn't have heard him, couldn't have heard him; Luppi had already wrung the last shreds of consciousness from the both of them. Hitsugaya- taichou was already down, fallen somewhere in the undergrowth. Yumichika was the only one free; a desperate move keeping him just clear of the Espada's grasping tentacles.

And there was nothing he could do.

"Running won't do any good Shinigami." Called Luppi. "I'll catch you and kill you, just like I intend to do with these friends of yours." He waved the tentacles holding the two Shinigami to emphasise his point. Yumichika frowned at the threat, but did not move from his hiding place. Revealing himself would do no good. He had to think.

"How about if I jab the pretty one full of holes?" A multitude of long spines grew from the tip of one tentacle. "Will you come out then?" Yumichika had to hold himself back from attacking the arrogant Espada. The immediacy of Rangiku's danger was horribly apparent to him, but there was nothing he could do. The Espada would cuff him away like a bothersome fly were he to attack, and then he'd be in the same position they were trapped in. He had to distract Luppi from his current threat, free Ikkaku and Rangiku and retreat, as much as the thought of flight rankled with him.

"But how do I distract him?" Yumichika growled to himself.

In a stroke of black luck, the decision was taken out of his hands.

"Think fast Shinigami!" shouted Luppi, plunging the spines towards Rangiku's prone form.

Yumichika had a split second to decide what he should do; and it was no decision at all. The move was so instinctive, that he was not even aware of the shift.

Not until he stood in front of Matsumoto, impaled on Luppi's barbs.

The Espada blinked at him, momentarily taken off guard. Yumichika smiled at him, blood threading from the corner of his mouth, chest convulsing as he tried to draw air into his shredded lungs. "Fast enough?" he quipped, spitting out the blood flooding his mouth.

"Still useless, Shinigami." Grinned the Sexta Espada. "Surely if you can't put up a decent fight you could at least make it interesting? This is just pathetic." He twitched the spines, and his grin grew wider as Yumichika screamed. "Then again, this could be very entertaining."

With a flick of the Espada's limb, Yumichika was flying. He watched his blood flow as the barbs were wrenched free with the distant knowledge that he would be dead at the end of this encounter. Already the blood loss was drawing him out of himself, watching his own defeat as if from a distance. The defeat galled him, but he contented himself with the knowledge that if Luppi was focussed on him, that meant he was distracted from hurting the others.

Luppi's second strike was too fast; he was bleeding again before he'd even realised he'd been struck. The pain hit him a moment later, and he shrieked until his throat was raw. Faintly, he heard the sound of metal shattering as his zanpakuto broke; the solid feeling of Fuji Kujaku's hilt in his hand evaporating as the entirety of his right arm felt as if it had been set alight.

"Ahh, music!" giggled Luppi, clapping his hands. "Oh, but I was right. You are very entertaining, even if you can't fight." He struck at Yumichika again, grinning as the Shinigami screamed. "If you make those pretty sounds whenever you are wounded, I would keep you as a pet."

Tentacles reached out and trapped the injured Shinigami before he could hit the ground, drawing him up until he hung limply in front of Luppi. "Can't have you dying too quickly." The Espada reasoned. Yumichika spat the blood in his mouth at the Espada in response, flecking his white hakama with crimson.

The tentacle wrapped around his right arm tightened. Yumichika looked at Luppi in horror as he realised his intent. "Scream for me." The Espada grinned, and crushed the arm in his grasp.

Yumichika's shriek rang out, over the harsh crack of the bones in his arm and the laughter of his tormentor. He clamped down on the scream, biting it furiously back. Breath flowed through his clenched teeth in desperate gasps, as he struggled to gain back what he'd lost by screaming.

Luppi scowled. "You're meant to play along." He wrenched the shattered limb again, but Yumichika endured this time without a sound, though he blanched white.

"Fighting it won't do you any good; I can find ways to make you scream." A tentacle shifted languidly until it hovered in front of his face, brushing his feathers. "How about I put holes in your pretty face instead of your friend's? That's a fair trade."

Yumichika froze at the suggestion, terror chilling him. Not his face. Anything but his face. The Espada could do what he liked to Yumichika's body, but damaging his face would destroy him. The spikes twitched in front of his face, and he flinched despite himself.

It was the wrong response. The tentacle in front of him, spines still dripping with blood after piercing his chest, drifted close until it stroked the feathers he wore.

"Scream, Shinigami."

The barbs tore into his face before he could reply. With his good eye, he saw flickers of red and yellow float past, before his vision was obscured by his own blood. Pain flooded through him as the spikes tore free of his flesh, but it was more than that. It was his face. His beauty. The Espada had destroyed his beauty.

He didn't scream. Tears flowed down his ruined face, burning the open wounds; something horrific, more intense than physical pain, cut him deep. But he did not scream.

"Fine." Sulked the Espada. "If you aren't going to be fun anymore." The tentacles holding him up unravelled their grasp and slowly he began to drop. Yumichika was too weak to save himself, and wouldn't have anyway if he could. The damage had already been done, his mind already locking itself away from the hurt, fleeing from the truth of his ugliness.

He closed his eyes as he fell, against the pain of his disfigurement, the loss of his beauty, vaguely aware that the ground rushing up to meet him was going to Hurt.

The blow never came.

Gentle arms closed around him, mindful of the injuries he had sustained, and carried him down. The reality of the fabric against his cheek brought his consciousness crashing back, the pain with it.

"Hush, little one." Soothed a voice as a scream bubbled up in his throat; there was not enough air in his lungs to scream anyway, too much fluid. "You're safe." He clung to the feeling of those arms around him, instinctively clinging to awareness even as his mind tried to flee from the reality of his mutilation. Adrenaline had held back the effects of blood loss, but as that strength flowed out of him the frightening weakness flooded in and choked his lungs.

Gasping for breath, he forced his eyes open, a useless gesture as his sight was masked by blood. The face of his rescuer hovered over him, a vague image tinged with worry that was not apparent in his voice. A familiar face...

"Urahara." He murmured through a mouthful of blood, unable to work up the strength to cough and dislodge the fluid. Somehow, through the immediate pain of his damaged face and broken body, he remembered why he'd allowed it to happen to him. "Ikkaku? Rangiku?"

"Safe." Urahara assured him, his voice rough with forced cheeriness. "You've done an admirable job."

"I'm dead." In Eleventh Division it paid to get straight to the point, so he was used to being blunt. He felt the arms holding him tense, though what he could see of Urahara's face revealed nothing.

"Now, now; there's no need for that." The tremble in Urahara's arms belied the truth of his words. "We'll just hand you over to Fourth. Unohana- taichou will patch you up, good as new."

"No!" he felt Urahara flinch; his vehemence had startled the other Shinigami. "It's over." He gasped fiercely through the blood that choked him. "I've lost everything. Better to die."

Wracking coughs seized him, ripping through him and stealing what little energy he had left. Urahara set him gently on the ground, and sat behind him, allowing Yumichika to rest against him. "Remember to breathe." Whispered the Shinigami in his ear, as he obediently followed the rhythm of Urahara's breathing to try and regain his own.

"Such an ugly ending." Yumichika wheezed, blood spilling from the holes in his chest as he struggled to breathe. Despite his efforts, his breathing faltered and he no longer had the strength to force it.

"Injuries can be fixed." Urahara's voice murmured to him. "Don't fret over your face. We'll fix it."

Yumichika tried to refute him, tried to tell him that the damage was done, but the pain in his chest had solidified, a block through which oxygen could not be forced, no matter how he struggled. His blinded eyes widened as he instinctively fought, spasms rippling through him as his body panicked. He heard Urahara panic similarly, but the Shinigami was far off, too distant for Yumichika to care.

The fight was a short one. Deprived of air, his body failed, giving up its half hearted effort to keep him alive.

The breath wheezed out of him into silence. He didn't draw another.

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Honestly, it _is _multi chapter, this is just the mother of all cliff hangers.

Constructive criticism appreciated. Reviews fuel my ability to write the next chapter. Flames will be used to fuel the fire I roast Mary Sues over.


	2. Discovery

Here we go with Chapter 2. There is technically no Yumi in this chapter, I hope you aren't all too disappointed. Forgive me for Ikkaku's characterisation, it hasn't come out quite right. I hope to rectify that next chapter. It's partly down to the awkward position he's been put in; I'd like to think so anyway.

Crazy Authoresses CAT and AMS- Thanks for the great review, it's nice to know specifics. Yes we can have a Sue fire; in fact, I have one burning right now. Hope the update is speedy enough. I can't promise it'll always be this fast though. I am a busy college student.

Terminally Mental- I take your slightly awed tone as a good sign. Thanks for the review. Hope this is to your liking.

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Funnily enough Tite Kubo owns Bleach.

Enjoy.

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"You will let me see him now."

Madarame Ikkaku, a man not known for his patience, had kept his temper so far, but there was only so much polite distraction he could take. He didn't raise his voice, an admirable show of control from a Shinigami with little, but he stood taller, impressing the fact of his height and superior strength upon the Fourth Division Shinigami who still saw fit to detain him. The only one who now saw fit to do so, the rest having long vacated the room at a run.

The healer wilted under his scrutiny, but held his ground. "Madarame- san, you should really remain in bed. You still need to rest."

"I couldn't care less about that!" growled the Third Seat. He was trying to be nice, but this healer made it so damn difficult. "I'm perfectly able to get up and move about, and if I'm capable of that, I'm capable of going to see Yumichika. Let me see him."

"Please Madarame- san, Unohana- taichou said that you and Matsumoto- san should rest." The Fourth Division Shinigami flapped his hands like a distressed bird, which only irritated Ikkaku further. "Ayasegawa- san isn't even allowed visitors at the moment. I'm sorry."

"I don't want to hear your excuses." The Third Seat growled, disgusted by the healer's whimpering. "I want to see Yumichika so you will take me to see him." The healer started to apologise again, now taking shelter behind the door to Ikkaku's room.

"Now!"

"Madarame- san." Unohana arrived to save her endangered subordinate from a very messy extinction.

"Unohana- taichou." Ikkaku acknowledged her with a bow, with a degree of restraint he had given up on with the rest of Fourth Division.

"I assume from the wreck you have reduced my Seventh Seat to that you are adamant about seeing Ayasegawa- san?" Unohana was one of very few people in Seireitei who could make an Eleventh Division Shinigami feel bad about starting a fight, and it was working on Ikkaku now. He blushed faintly and muttered an unrepentant apology to the quivering mess of Shinigami hiding behind the door.

"I will let you see him, briefly, if you will stop terrorising my Division and rest as you should be when we return."

"Fine." Ikkaku answered quickly, impatient to get going. He'd worry about the difficult task of not mistreating the Fourth Division after he saw Yumichika.

Unohana led him down the corridor, away from the more bustling corridors to a quiet area usually reserved for the more serious patients. The silence made Ikkaku nervous; it was oppressive.

Unohana finally stopped at the last door on the corridor. She opened it, but paused with her hand still resting on the handle, and turned to face Ikkaku.

"Before we go in I must make sure you understand the extent of Ayasegawa- san's injuries."

"I've already been told." Ikkaku answered, anxious to see Yumichika and decide for himself what the damage was. Fourth Division and Eleventh Division had very different ideas about what 'injured' meant. "Serious, almost fatal, but currently stable. Not to put too fine a point on it, Unohana- taichou, but that said by a member of Fourth Division means something entirely different for Eleventh Division."

"I am sorry to say," and indeed, her face had grown melancholy, "that it means the same in both cases, even for a battle Division like Eleventh."

"What do you mean taichou?" Her expression made Ikkaku nervous. Unohana was known for being calm and composed; for something to disturb her like this it had to be bad. "It cannot be as bad as you are making it out to be." There was too much hope in that statement; it needed quashing.

"His condition is very serious, Madarame- san, and contrary to what my Division may have told you, there is still no certainty as to whether he will pull through or not." The truth, in all its baldness; Ikkaku almost laughed at the irony. "Most of the injuries he suffered have already been mended. However, he sustained severe damage to his abdomen, including his stomach and lungs; as a result, he is still too weak to breathe for himself; he is being given aid in that respect, at least for the time being."

"He can't breathe for himself?" Ikkaku echoed, staring at her. That was bad, very bad; if the numerous injuries she hinted at weren't bad enough. He watched her face as he processed the information. Something was wrong.

"That's not it, is it." It wasn't a question. The melancholy had returned and she nodded after a moment.

"He has been badly scarred, Madarame- san."

Ikkaku snorted, despite the severity of the situation. Yumichika wasn't going to like that. The narcissistic little bastard would be commiserating for years if even a tiny scratch of that scarring was to his face.

Unohana's expression cut off his humour. "I think you had better see for yourself; but I warn you, Madarame- san, it may be quite distressing."

"For him or for me?" He asked with a grim look, taking her cue that this was not something he would be teasing Yumichika about later on. She didn't answer, but he figured he already knew.

The room was dim, curtains pulled across the one large window to keep the sun from disturbing the occupant. It was a futile gesture really; Yumichika wasn't going to wake up anytime today at least. A single bed stood against the back wall, under the window. Machines stood at the bedside, trailing tubes and wires, humming gently as they aided the wounded man. In the low light, Ikkaku could just make out the vague form of his friend beyond the wires, pale as the sheets of the bed, an oxygen mask in place to assist him where he could not aid himself.

Ikkaku approached cautiously. Something about that still, white shape unnerved him. Yumichika was colour and movement and noise. This couldn't possibly be him. Not reduced to this.

Two steps from the bedside, the full extent of Yumichika's injuries became clear. The colour drained from his face, until it was as pale as Yumichika's; at least, as pale as the unspoiled side of Yumichika's face. The right side was burned with lines of blood, mapping a series of intersecting scores, which extended underneath the mask Yumichika wore. Ikkaku followed the network of scabbed scars as they wove down Yumichika's neck and disappeared into bandages bound to the shoulder of his right arm.

And there a horrific scene got worse. The bandaged limb stopped just short of the wrist, an empty space where the right hand should have been, where Yumichika's sword hand should have been.

Ikkaku took an involuntary step back, gasping in air when he realised he had not taken a breath. Unohana stood behind him, gauging his reaction. He turned on her.

"That's what you meant?" he growled, instinctively reacting in anger, however misplaced. "You said scarring, not mutilation!"

"I told you he had suffered extensive scarring," Unohana reiterated calmly, not batting an eyelid at his harsh tone, "which includes the loss of his right hand and irreparable damage to the right eye."

He forgot to breathe again, too dazed by the latest revelation to berate her for withholding the extent of Yumichika's injuries. "Irreparable?" he whispered, horror overtaking his face. "He's blind?"

She waited a moment to let the revelation sink in, then nodded. "I did warn you that this would be quite distressing."

This was his fault. He'd spoken with his assigned healer (not the Seventh Seat he'd reduced to a wibbling mass) as soon as he'd woken up. He knew that all this had happened after the Espada had taken him out. That made it his fault. As the strongest, with Hitsugaya down and despite Rangiku's higher rank, it was his responsibility to look after the others. He had failed, and Yumichika had paid an appalling price.

"You were unconscious, Madarame- san." Unohana could read his face far too easily. "What could you have done?"

"I shouldn't have gotten caught. I should have been the one to do it, to try and free them from that bastard Espada. It wouldn't have mattered so much if that-" he gestured at Yumichika, trying to ignore the flinch that jolted him when he looked at the space where the right hand should have been, "happened to me; I'm used to getting torn up."

"Even though your zanpakuto's shikai is a two handed weapon?" Unohana asked quietly.

"I would manage." Ikkaku brushed her off. "I could've found a way to deal with it. But this... "

He trailed off, as the depth of the problem hit home.

"If the injuries don't kill him, the scars will."

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Reviews make my world go round. Flames fuel my Sue fire.


	3. Desertion

Oh my Gods; I am so sorry. This shouldn't have taken as long as it has, especialy considering that this chapter isn't the greatest. I needed to get people back into view and it didn't come out right. In my defence, I have not only had excessive homework to deal with, but a family tragedy earlier in the week as well as a shoulder injury which means I'm currently in a sling and typing one handed (I is a clever person, ain't I?)

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed; I hope you've stuck with me while I got my arse into gear for this chapter. The next one shouldn't take so long. I hope you'll forgive me, but I'll type up the personal responses to your reviews in the next chapter; I'm struggling with all the typing. (apologies for the numbers line break near the end; if i could make the HTML code for the asterisk work then I'd use that instead.)

Enjoy the belated chapter; and if you can't enjoy it, suffer through it and then post a review telling me, in minute detail, exactly what you hated. It'll help for next time.

And finally, Chapter Three!

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Even half asleep, he was aware of the machines. The heart monitor and oxygen mask had become a background to his thoughts, a continuous beep and whistle that both lulled him and stirred him from sleep at regular intervals. But always hyperaware. Had the rhythm changed once, the whistle sounded late or the beep been overdue, he would have been up in an instant. Anxiety was written in the tense line of his shoulders, the furrow in his brow, even in this state of half sleep when he should have been relaxed. Even holding Yumichika's hand, he was unconsciously aware of the trailing wires. 

"Still sitting in, Ikkaku-kun?" So tuned into the machines at Yumichika's bedside, there was a delay while he recognised the presence of another person in the room. They were already standing beside him by the time he'd mustered the energy to open his eyes.

"What do you want, Matsumoto?"

He was in no mood to deal with the Tenth Division fukutaichou today. He'd had enough of her the last four times she'd visited. There was only so much bubbly obnoxiousness a guy could take, even in a good mood, and Ikkaku was certainly not in a good mood today.

"You're acting like Hitsugaya- taichou did with Hinamori- kun." Ikkaku was certain she'd said that the last time she'd visited, possibly the time before as well. He'd considered pointing out her use of the past tense, since Hitsugaya certainly wasn't acting like this around Hinamori- fukutaichou anymore; Ikkaku was certainly pissed enough. It wasn't worth having Matsumoto declare war on him in defence of her taichou though, nor would his life be worth much if Hitsugaya- taichou ever found out.

"This is different." He settled for a half boiled denial instead, hoping Matsumoto would lose interest. Ikkaku should have realised: he might be stubborn, but no one could out will Matsumoto when she was making the effort to be obstinate.

"No it's not. It's almost identical. I can understand it to a certain extent, but just like him you're taking it too far." Oh dear, she'd crossed her arms. That wasn't a good sign with any female, least of all Rangiku. "It's been two days without a murmur. I think you can spare the time to take a nap and get some food in you without him waking up."

"He'll wake up when I'm gone." Ikkaku realised she was probably right, but he didn't want to admit it. He'd never hear the end if he did. And there was the niggling fear that Yumichika would wake up without him there. As much as he hoped for his friend to wake, he also dreaded it, because then they would have to deal with the emotional fallout. Ikkaku wasn't good with emotions; you didn't use them much in Eleventh Division. Swords and swearwords worked so much better. Even so, he intended to be there when it happened, to stand by Yumichika as the peacock had stood by him through everything; he had to be there. The hand holding Yumichika's tightened, though careful not to tug the wires.

The thought of Yumichika waking with no one there terrified Ikkaku. Call Yumichika a narcissist, it was more than true, but no one Ikkaku knew, vain or otherwise, would react calmly to the loss of an eye and a hand; especially one's sword hand. Yumichika's narcissism just made a bad situation

worse. Despite a much cooler head than the Third Seat, when his looks were concerned Yumichika was likely to react violently. With someone there when he woke up, they could stop him from doing himself damage, but if he woke alone...

"Stop that." A sharp clout to his head drove the morbid train of thought out, along with a quantity of brain cells. Keeping his hold on Yumichika's hand, he whipped round to glare at Matsumoto, who still held her hand out in front of her, as though she meant to hit him again.

"What the hell was that for!" He snarled, curbing his shout at the last minute lest he get a reprimand from Unohana- taichou; it would be the fifth, which, remarkably enough, was the number of times Matsumoto had visited.

"You're being gloomy again." As usual, the fukutaichou was unfazed by Ikkaku's anger. It didn't seem to work on any of his friends anymore. "He's not going to wake up as soon as you leave the room. He hasn't stirred once the entire time you've been sitting here. And even if he did wake up, he'll be too weak to do anything; he'll probably just fall back to sleep again."

"You don't know that." Ikkaku snapped, cursing the authentic shred of fear that had slipped out. "People are capable of anything when motivated by pain." He wondered whether Rangiku realised how serious Yumichika's reaction would be. Turn the constant accusation of narcissism on its head and suddenly you have a problem. In a person who placed so much importance on their beauty, what happened when it was taken away? Yumichika defined himself by his appearance; without it, he was nothing.

"Okay, okay." Matsumoto remained unflustered, though she raised her hands in a placating gesture. "So I won't ask you to take a nap, even if you need it after two days worth of watching. Will you at least let me take you to get some food? Unohana- taichou won't allow it in the room, but we can sit out on the engawa and eat; then you'll still be close in case he wakes."

He wasn't happy about it, but it was a good compromise. He relaxed his stance, but the scowl did not budge from his face. The fact that his stomach was rumbling ironically at him did not help his mood. He was giving Rangiku too many opportunities to be proven right; that was dangerous to his mental health, and that of anyone who had to hear about it at a later date.

Matsumoto beamed at him, correctly reading his reaction. "Well, come on then. The sooner we go, the sooner we're back and you can get back to babysitting."

She grabbed his arm and made to drag him forcibly from the room, but Ikkaku pulled out of her grip. kneeling close so he could speak without being overheard by Matsumoto. "I'll be right back." He whispered to his sleeping friend. "I promise." Somewhere at the back of his mind, a tiny hope fluttered, that against the odds Yumichika would respond.

After an extended moment of expectation, Ikkaku sighed in defeat and stood. It was a foolish hope really. Rangiku was right; Yumichika wasn't going to wake anytime soon, and if Ikkaku kept thinking that he would then he would never leave. Now that it had been brought to his attention, he really did need to eat.

"Lunchtime."

Matsumoto whisked him from the room before he could object to her over enthusiasm. He blinked owlishly as he was dragged down the corridor; looked like the sun was out. It only occurred to him now that they'd kept it artificially dim in Yumichika's room.

"Come on! Come on!" Matsumoto sang, pulling Ikkaku harder when he didn't match her pace. He stumbled into line behind her, unable to shake her vice grip on his wrist. "Lunch awaits!"

Even for Matsumoto, this was a little too enthusiastic; Ikkaku was suspicious before they were even halfway out to the engawa, would have questioned her about it already in fact, if she would stop swinging him into unsuspecting members of the Fourth Division on their way past.

When he saw what was waiting for them, the suspicion was confirmed. He planted his feet, stopping Matsumoto in her tracks, and pulled her back so they were standing practically nose to nose.

"Ok," he growled. "What the hell is going on?"

101010101010101010

Waking after a near death experience was meant to be peaceful, a slow realisation of your continued existence as you returned to consciousness.

Not so with Yumichika. He came awake instantly, unintentionally roused by a Fourth Division member as they checked his breathing. Confused, and scared by the close presence of a stranger who practically had their hands around his throat, he lashed out, catching the healer in the jaw and throwing him into the machines at the bedside. The movement unbalanced him, and sent him crashing to the floor beside the unfortunate shinigami, who lay unconscious in a heap of indignantly whistling debris.

The IV was ripped from Yumichika's arm by the movement; leaving another mark in his skin, another unsightly scar. The oxygen mask was similarly displaced, cutting into his face as it was pulled askew; he pawed at the confining mask off and eventually managed to pull it off, letting it fall beside the abandoned IV line. He realised it was mistake as soon as he did so, his breath coming quick and shallow without its aid, but he preferred the slow suffocation of real air to the plastic biting into his scarred face.

Scarred... the horrific memory of his defeat at Luppi's hands came crashing back. He raised his shaking hand to his face, to feel the reality of the disfigured flesh, and there was faced with an even harsher truth.

The hand was gone.

He stared at the stump of his right hand, as he scrabbled with the remaining limb to lift himself free of the tangle of machinery he'd fallen into. He managed to manoeuvre himself into a sitting position but didn't have the strength to move further, already struggling to breath; his heavy wheezing had replaced the soft whisper of the oxygen mask.

It was gone; just not there anymore. As much as he stared at it, the stump that had once been his hand didn't make sense. He couldn't comprehend it, couldn't get his head around the fact that his hand was gone; he could still _feel _the hand that should be there. That was what shook him. Being able to feel a hand that wasn't there; feeling as though you could move it, use it, when it didn't exist. Dawning horror crept through him, drawn by one lucid thought amidst the jumble of half coherency.

Cripple. Not just disfigured, but a cripple. You couldn't be in Eleventh as a cripple; he'd be cast out.

Maybe he already had been; maybe that was why no one was here, no one but the shinigami he'd unintentionally knocked out. He'd disgraced them, so they'd dumped him. Cripples were the Fourth Division's job to take care of. Even Ikkaku hadn't wanted to see him.

Unsurprising really; Yumichika wouldn't have kept himself around if he'd been in their position. You didn't keep the useless, and not only was he useless, but he was ugly as well.

"I'm sorry." His voice was barely audible as he could barely get the air to speak. "I'm so sorry." He curled in on himself, regardless of the ache that bloomed in his abdomen at the movement. Something tore beneath the bandages, and a warm wetness spread through them, but it didn't matter enough for him to care. Let it bleed; if he was lucky it would be bad enough that he'd bleed out, if he was only left alone long enough for that to happen. He'd probably suffocate first, seeing how much he had to struggle to breathe.

That was what should have happened in the first place. He should have died in the beginning, not lived to see the wreck he'd become, to suffer the abandonment he'd already realised would be coming. Even Ikkaku...

"I'm sorry, Ikkaku." He wheezed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He couldn't get beyond those words, beyond the apology to someone who wasn't going to hear it anyway; just as he couldn't get past the loss of his hand and the destruction of his face. Sobs shuddered through him, wringing tears from him with each ripple. They ran down his face in a constant stream, through the convulsive sobbing and the breathless apologies to no one. His own repetitions rang in his ears, counterpointed by the insistent whistling of the broken machines, which grew until it had overcome his whisper, until the continuous shriek was all he could hear.

The sound of a heart gone dead.

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Reviewing helps my shoulder heal, gets me out of this sling and back into writing; so if you want more, you'll have to review. 


	4. Distress

Oh My God. How long did this take? I am so sorry, I never intended for it to go this long without an update. This one was just such a bugger to write. Thankfully the next chapter's already in progress, and I have the holidays in which to write it. I can't let it sit for a whole month. That's just unforgiveable. Sorry, sorry, sorry.

Generic Gen- nice to know you'll give him a chance despite your dislike.

Hana Ryuuzaki- Thank you very much. It's not all doom and gloom for them though, I promise.

YuanxKratos- Yes, I am rather mean to him aren't I?

Crazy Authoress CAT and AMS- good to know you're still on board, and thank you ever so much for the favourite. The comment you made about me being fast is kinda obsolete now but thank you anyway. Good to know someone understands the time constraints. 6 A-levels is hard work.

Terminally Mental- I'm glad the last chapter was in time for your birthday and I'm sorry you ahd to wait so long for this one. I hope to not leave it so long in future, though that may be hard to keep to with exams on their way, but I will do my best. Thanks for the tip about the semi-colons. I had a feeling I was using too many. I don't think I've done so this time round, but you be the judge. I am out of the sling now, in case you wondered.

Lady Saru- Glad you like it. I'll try not to take so long next time.

kelso-teh-freak- Someone like me! Yay! I've been waiting for a story like this, so I finally decided to write one instead of wait. I feel kinda bad for making you cry though...

Xx Trinity xX- Thank you. I will try to update faster.

AriKitten- You make a good point about a plot hole I haven't fixed yet. I'll need to sort that out. No, they won't be going to Orihime to fix it though.

L. M. Fraser- Yes sir! or ma'am! umm...

Ferrith- Don't worry! Last time I checked Yumi was still alive. It'd be hard to write without a protagonist, right?

useless-knight- well, here's the next update. I'll get the next one done double time.

I think that's everyone. Thank you all so much for your reviews, and favourites. I love you all. But enough of that; onto the chapter!

* * *

Well, Matsumoto's over enthusiasm made a lot more sense now. Ikkaku's suspicions were confirmed: what had supposedly been a quick lunch had blossomed into a party. He had a horrible feeling that this was about to become a hell of a lot more complicated than lunch had any right to be.

Renji's appearance wasn't a huge shock. Ikkaku had expected him to turn up at some point over the next few days to see Yumichika. He was a friend, and there was certainly enough history there for him to almost be required to attend at some stage. Unohana- taichou had also joined them, but he'd half expected that too. He knew she was still keeping an eye on him, since he hadn't returned to his room after first seeing Yumichika, as he'd promised. She'd add her thoughts whenever she felt it necessary.

Ikkaku could even explain away Ichigo's presence. The substitute shinigami had been stuck in Soul Society after their farce of an encounter with the Espada, hauled through with the rest of them by the retrieval squad from Fourth that had had to be summoned to rescue their sorry asses. He'd been rather bitter about it, and he wasn't the only one either, but his loud sullenness had quieted now that he'd been assured by both Yoruichi and Urahara that they'd keep an eye on Karakura in his absence. With nothing to do until he could go back, he'd been tagging along behind Renji and bugging the hell out of him.

Rukia's presence baffled Ikkaku. He barely knew her, only having met her in passing a few times, including the time they'd spent as teammates of a sort when in Karakura. She was Renji's friend, not his. And then there was Hitsugaya- taichou. He just made Ikkaku nervous, but the taichou made the somewhat random pattern of party attendees fall into place. Matsumoto had chosen to invite the Karakura team. The only question was why, a question he wanted answered immediately.

"Ok, what the hell is going on?" Ikkaku cast a suspicious eye over all of them, watching them all squirm under the scrutiny, apart from Hitsugaya- taichou who just looked bored.

"Well, you see..." Renji started finally, after they'd sat in awkward silence for a few minutes.

"We figured we needed to help." Ichigo finished for him, irritated by the fukutaichou's stumbling. "Well, actually, Rangiku-san figured that she needed to help and roped the rest of us into it."

Ikkaku certainly wasn't surprised to hear that. Matsumoto tended to prefer getting other people to help, rather than just do things for herself, one example being paperwork, which she routinely asked for help on, that or just refused to do it.

"So why did you decide to help, Matsumoto?" The guilty party, who'd done a good job of being anonymous up to this point, was pulled back to the forefront again. She'd pulled them all into this, now she could explain why. Whatever patience Ikkaku had started with had quickly evaporated, and now he was teetering on the edge of pissed off; and hungry.

For the first time in two days, Matsumoto was lost for words. It was a revelation for Ikkaku. "Unohana- taichou suggested it." She said finally, and that overenthusiastic, overoptimistic, whiny voice that had been irritating Ikkaku for the past two days was gone. This was the same lost voice that he'd heard from her after Ichimaru had disappeared. To be frank, he hated it; it just wasn't her. "She said that Yumichika would need all the help he could get with this, and since I'm part responsible for landing him here in the first place, I figured it was my job to find as much help as I could."

Well, that wasn't what he'd expected. He could understand Unohana's suggestion of more help, even if it seemed to imply that he couldn't do the job (which he worried about himself, not that he'd admit it). Matsumoto didn't need to feel responsible for Yumichika's condition though. That was his prerogative, being the stronger of the two of them. When Hitsugaya- taichou had gone down, the task of keeping their group intact should have fallen to him. He'd done a pretty abysmal job. He had no idea how to address the issue though, knowing that if he tried to tell her it wasn't her fault the words would come out wrong, or she'd twist them so they sounded wrong. He just wasn't good at this stuff.

"So what exactly did you have in mind?" He asked instead, not just to Matsumoto, but the entire group. From the blank looks he was getting, they didn't seem to have thought that far.

"The first thing must surely be to reassure Ayasegawa- san when he awakes." And there it was, Unohana- taichou's pearl of wisdom. "He will be most distressed by what has happened, and it will take a lot of work to convince him otherwise. That is why he needs you to be here." They all shared a look and a nod.

Rukia remained quiet throughout this. Seemed Matsumoto had dragged her along without considering whether she had any business being there. Maybe in the fukutaichou's mind she did, having been a member the team while they'd been in Karakura, but clearly Rukia didn't feel the same. Hitsugaya- taichou didn't contribute either, but he was entitled to a sulk. This would be the second time his fukutaichou had dragged him into this team, despite his other obligations (namely paperwork, something that Matsumoto liked to deny the existence of) and if Ikkaku had been in his position, he would have been more than a little ticked off too. A good sulk was not to be wasted.

"You just need to be there for him. Be sure that he realises this injury has not destroyed him, for that is surely what he will think." Unohana was far too good at reading people, and Yumichika was no exception. "Stay with him. Help him regain what he has lost. It is what you, as friends and comrades-" Unohana's eyes were on Rukia for that last minute addition, "can do better than any healer."

A scuffle in the corridor behind them interrupted the group before they could agree. Unohana excused herself as two of her healers appeared, carrying a third between them.

"Unohana-taichou!"

"What happened?" She knelt to examine the unconscious shinigami they carried as they came up alongside her. Gentle fingers ran over his face and head, checking for signs of injury.

"Ayasegawa- san woke up and knocked him out."

"What!" Ikkaku easily drowned out whatever Unohana had to say about it. He flew down the corridor towards Yumichika's room, towards the source of a commotion he'd been completely oblivious to, despite his promise to keep an eye and an ear out. A panic had settled in his chest that shouldn't be there; Ikkaku wasn't the type to panic.

He arrived at the door to be met by a gaggle of healers, some of whom were fighting with what appeared to be the remains of the heart monitor, judging by the shrill scream still emanating from it, while others were just there to watch the spectacle.

Yumichika had pinned himself in the corner, lashing out at the few healers in the room whenever they tried to get close. They were so afraid of hurting him further that his weak efforts were enough to keep them at bay. It was all a horrible mess.

"You're making it worse, you idiots!" Ikkaku stormed through the group at the door and grabbed the nearest well meaning healer by the front of his uniform and hauled him out of the way. "What logic made you figure that crowding him into a corner would calm him down?"

"We need to put him back on oxygen. He's not strong enough to cope without it." The Fourth Division shinigami explained.

"And, obviously hyperventilation is a good state to be in when you can't get enough oxygen normally." Ikkaku looked at the healer incredulously. "What's wrong with you? How could making him practically suffocate himself possibly make sense to you?" He'd already stopped listening when the smaller shinigami began to babble excuses, shoving the healer away from him towards the door.

"The rest of you!" he roared. "Get your asses out of here now!" As was the norm by now, they faltered as a whole, stuck between tending a patient and fleeing a terror, before scuttling from the room hard on the heels of the first shinigami. Ikkaku slammed the door behind them to keep out the morbidly curious who were still lurking in the doorway.

Yumichika looked awful; he was only still standing because the walls at his back held him there. The lack of oxygen getting to his lungs had already turned his lips blue and was slowly dyeing his skin the same colour.

"Yumi..." he faltered as the injured shinigami's head snapped up to look at him. The one eye was wide, staring at him... fearfully. The expression didn't change, even when Ikkaku saw recognition dawn. Yumichika was afraid of him.

Ikkaku wasn't an emotional person; he didn't know what to do in this sort of situation. His straightforward, aggressive method of dealing with his problems had fallen woefully short for the first time in his afterlife. He'd spent two days sitting in this room wondering how he'd deal with the consequences of Yumichika's loss when the peacock finally woke up, half formulating plans, scrapping others. Now he was faced with it, the ideas were slipping through his fingers like so much sand.

Yumichika was afraid of him.

'OK, think.' He told himself. 'He's freaked out by the nurse mob. He certainly put up one hell of a fight. It's got to be that. He's not afraid of you. He can't be. Just sort him out before he chokes himself.'

"Yumi, you gotta calm down." He reached to his friend, but withdrew when Yumichika trapped himself further into his corner in an effort to get away. "Hey, calm down, I'm not gonna try to jump you like those nurses, but you have to let me help. You can't breathe, but if you put the mask back on it'll help."

Yumichika's stare never faltered but he mumbled something too low for Ikkaku to hear. He stepped closer, carefully so as not to startle the edgy shinigami. It was like dealing with a wild animal. Unfortunately, in Ikkaku's experience with wild animals, he tended to get bitten. "Say again, Yumi." He kept his voice low, but it came out as more of a growl than a whisper, not how he'd intended it at all. He just wasn't very good at this.

"Can't..."

"Can't?"

"Can't... if I..." he gasped himself into silence; the small exertion of speaking overwhelmed him. He panted for a minute until he'd gathered enough air to make a second attempt.

"If I... put... the mask on... I'll get... better." He spat the last word out like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Ikkaku was baffled. "But..." he trailed off, still uncomprehending. "That's the point. The point is to get you fixed so you don't have to sit in with Fourth for any longer than necessary."

Yumichika's stare had taken on a different tone, now it was disbelieving. "How... could this p-possibly... be fixed?" He asked incredulously. "Look at me!"

He couldn't. Ikkaku knew he had a strong stomach, so why was it so difficult to look at Yumichika now? Ikkaku hadn't even realised til now how he'd kept his eyes averted from the injuries. He cursed himself for cowardice, but, try as he might, he could not look at the arm that ended without a hand, the bandages that hid a blank eye. It turned his stomach in a way that it had no right to.

Ikkaku grimaced and turned away, taking a moment to collect himself. This was ridiculous! He'd seen worse, he knew he had. It wasn't even on display! It was wrapped in bandages, hidden from view, and he still couldn't look!

"You can't... even look!" Yumichika pushed himself away from his corner, aiming to slip past Ikkaku and get away. Without the support of the walls though, his legs wouldn't hold him and he fell, crashing into Ikkaku and taking the other shinigami with him.

It certainly snapped Ikkaku out of his musing. He caught hold of Yumichika, but, being in the wrong position to haul him back up, fell with him and had to twist to the side to avoid crushing him. Yumichika didn't make another attempt to escape, but lay where he was, wheezing heavily and clutching fitfully at his chest. Spots of blood dotted the bandages around his torso.

"Oh, hell." Ikkaku gathered his fallen friend up, despite Yumichika's flinching and weak attempts to push him away, and carried him back to the bed, mindful of the debris that hadn't been completely cleared from earlier. The second oxygen machine, hauled in after the destruction of the first, was close enough here that Ikkaku could fasten the mask in place over Yumichika's nose and mouth, sighing in relief when that awful wheeze began to quiet.

"You've got to be more careful, Yumi. You need to heal." Horribly hypocritical of him, seeing as the few times he'd been incarcerated with the Fourth Division he'd flipped the bird to healing, in favour of picking fights with other inmates.

Yumichika didn't answer but turned to face the wall, his one hand still held tight over his heart, tangled in the loose folds of his yukata. The scars that Ikkaku couldn't bear to look at were hidden by his position, which relieved Ikkaku, and left him disgusted at himself for feeling relieved. Now he was the one making it worse.

"I... I'm sorry Yumi. I shouldn't have reacted like that."

Apologies were awkward enough as it was, but getting no answer just made it uncomfortable. Ikkaku allowed the quiet to extend to a minute, the whistling of the oxygen mask the only sound in the room, before his slim patience gave up.

"Come on, Yumi. You can't just ignore me."

Apparently he could. After another minute of awkward silence Ikkaku sighed in defeat and sat down on the edge of the bed, resting a hand on Yumichika's shoulder in a clumsy attempt at comfort.

"Fine, you don't have to talk to me. I am sorry, you know." He said, his free hand fiddling with the hilt of Houzukimaru as he sought the appropriate words. "Look, I know you're upset, and I know this has freaked the hell out of you, but..." he struggled for the words. What were you meant to say? Surely there was some pearl of wisdom he could dredge up.

"It's like Zaraki- taichou said." He said finally, grateful for the last minute answer. "You ain't lost the fight if you're still alive. You just patch yourself up and fight again. Ain't over til you're dead, or you've won. You're still here, Yumi, so it ain't over yet."

Silence again. The shoulder his hand rested on shifted out from under his touch. "Go away, Ikkaku." Yumichika whispered, muffled by the mask. "You've made your point... so just go away." He curled away from Ikkaku, still facing the wall, and hid his head behind the shield of his one, whole arm.

"Just go away."

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Okay, you know the drill. Criticism is fine, especially considering how I left you hanging, but I'd prefer it if you didn't flame. I'll only use them to roast Mary Sues. Don't put your well written flames to waste.


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